Verba Cantare
by blueboxbelle
Summary: Snape finds himself on the wrong end of a jinx that causes him to randomly burst into song. Winner of the Tumblr Prompts Contest by hpfanfictionprompts (Prompt 214).
1. Chapter 1

"Take that back, Malfoy!"

"Why should I?! We all know your family love Mudbloods, that's why you hang out with Granger, isn't it?"

"Take that back now or I'll – "

"Or you'll what, Weasley?"

"I'll – I'll bloody hex you into the middle of next week, that's what I'll do!"

Severus Snape sighed before rising from his seat to attend to the latest commotion of the day outside his classroom door. The insufferable students were incapable of waiting in silence while he prepared for his next Defence Against the Dark Arts class, and he was already feeling the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes.

"I'd like to see you try, Weasley. Remind me what happened in our second year? I seem to recall you were spewing out slugs like there was no tomorrow!"

"Oh, don't you worry, I'll make sure to hit the right target this time!"

"Ron, I think maybe you'd better – "

"Oh look, Weasley, even Granger doesn't think you can do it!"

"I can too!"

"Go on, then! Go on! Or are you too scared to without your precious friend Potter to back you up?"

Snape's head was now pounding. He closed his eyes briefly before reaching his hand out to open the classroom door, cursing the day he ever thought it would be a good idea to actually teach the blasted children.

"I don't need Harry, I'm perfectly capable of doing stuff myself, thanks!"

"Well, go on, then! Or are you all talk? Should've known you weren't capable of any proper magic, being a Weasley!"

"Verba cantare!" Ron yelled, just as Snape pulled open the door. The next thing he felt was the cool blast of a spell hitting him in the chest which caused him to recoil slightly; he soon recovered and straightened himself up to survey the scene before him.

He saw Ronald Weasley staring at him, wand outstretched and pointing right at him, a look of complete shock on his face. He was also aware of Draco Malfoy standing next to him; the boy had doubtlessly been standing against the classroom door until the jinx was cast and then had dodged sideways, leaving Snape to face the full force of it. He was unsure, however, as to what the actual effect had been on him. He felt no different. Cautiously checking himself over, he heard Malfoy ask Ron the same question that was on his mind.

"What was that spell, Weasley? I've not heard that before. Are you resorting to making them up now?" he said with a slight sneer in his voice. Snape was relieved to hear this meant he most likely looked no different; he was not up to once again being a figure of ridicule following the events with Longbottom and the Boggart a few years back.

"Dunno." Ron shrugged. "It's one of Fred and George's, I just remember reading it somewhere. It can't be that bad, can it?" He gulped and looked up at Snape, his face now completely white.

Snape felt now was time to gain back some control of the situation and decided to ignore Hermione Granger, who was stood behind Ron with a look of horror on her face. He opened his mouth to berate Ron and order the class inside.

_"No spells should be cast in the corridor,_

_That's twenty points from Gryffindor,_

_Now everyone enter in silence,_

_I'm only going to tell you once."_

Snape snapped his mouth shut, horrified. Where on earth had that come from? He could still feel Hermione's gaze on him despite his concerted efforts to block her from his vision, and eventually turned to look at her, settling for raising an eyebrow in question as he did not trust himself to attempt to speak again.

"Um, Professor?" Hermione ventured. When Snape did not make any effort to prevent her from speaking, she continued. "I think I might, er, I might know what that does."

Snape glared at her but refrained from bursting into sarcasm, worried that he might burst into song again instead. He simply nodded at her to continue.

"From the sounds of the incantation itself, I think it's something to do with words and song. Specifically, it means something the lines of 'sing your words'' or 'sing your speech'," she said, her voice stronger now that she was on the familiar ground of imparting information.

"Are you saying," croaked Ron, "that I've just made Snape sing?!" He was now as white as the Bloody Baron and looked as though his world was about to come to a grisly, painful end.

_"That's Professor Snape to you,_

_Unless you'd like detention too."_

Blast it, he should have let that one go.

He was aware of the looks from the rest of the class turning from outright fear to – was that amusement? Snape groaned inwardly. This was going to be the Boggart all over again, he knew it.

Resolving to not even think about speaking again, he wrenched the classroom door open and pointed sharply inside whilst turning his glare to encompass the rest of the students, adding a snarl in for good measure. This seemed to have the desired effect and, as the students quietly filed in, he strode to the blackboard at the front of the room and began to write down instructions. He ensured that the sixth years would have more than enough work to keep them busy for the duration of the class and added a few written threats in for good measure, before once again exiting the classroom, his long robes billowing behind him as he made his way towards the one person he felt might respect the little bit of dignity he had left.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Potter opened his eyes blearily, squeezing them shut again as they were hit by the stream of light pouring in through the window. He opened them again, this time more warily, and realised it was too bright to be the beginning of the day. He began to move himself into a more upright position as he evaluated his surroundings.

The bed he was in was comfortable but firm, the sheets pure white and tucked in with almost military precision. Around him were similar beds, but his was the only one currently occupied. With a flash of remembrance the events of yesterday came back to him, and he closed his eyes yet again, this time in almost physical pain.

Quidditch. Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. The most disastrous match Harry had played in by far. Although there was the time he fell off his now-wrecked Nimbus after the pitch was invaded by Dementors. And the time Lockhart had got rid of all the bones in his arm. It had certainly the worst match of his Quidditch captaincy, anyway. After Ron had been badly poisoned by Slughorn's mead there had been no choice but to play McLaggen as Keeper, but now Harry was of the opinion that even Hermione would have been an improvement. He touched the back of his head from where McLaggen had whacked him with Peakes' bat, but although it was still slightly tender he was pleased to realise his head had stopped aching. With the other beds empty he realised that Ron must have been cleared to leave by Madam Pomfrey earlier in the day, and hoped he would also be able to get out soon; he was eager to see if Dobby or Kreacher had any information on Malfoy.

Just as Harry thought this, Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office and swept towards him. "Finally awake, Potter?" she asked. "How do you feel?" Without waiting for an answer she placed the back of her hand against Harry's forehead, before tilting him forward so she could examine what yesterday had been a severe wound at the back of his head.

"Well, that's certainly looking much better," Pomfrey said, looking satisfied. "Any headaches still? Blurred vision, feeling sick?"

"Erm, no I'm fine, thanks," said Harry. Now she mentioned it, he did feel a slight wave of nausea, but he was more focused on getting out of the Hospital Wing as soon as possible.

"Hmm," said Pomfrey, studying Harry closely. He surreptitiously crossed his fingers under the blanket, but he felt his chances diminishing; she did not look convinced. "I think I'd like you to remain a bit longer, you're still looking a bit too peaky for my liking," she said. She breezed over to a cupboard at the end of the wing, and then returned to Harry clutching a small glass bottle filled with a dark green, cloudy liquid. "Take this for me, Potter, if you would."

Harry did not particularly want to swallow the contents of the bottle, but knew that he would only be getting out of here if he did what Pomfrey asked. He took the potion from her gingerly before uncorking the bottle, then took a deep breath before gulping down the entire contents in one go. He grimaced as Pomfrey took the bottle back from him, but could feel the nausea dissipating. "You should be well enough to leave at lunchtime, I'll check on you then. And stay in that bed, Potter," she scolded him as though he were a naughty puppy.

Harry rolled his eyes as Madam Pomfrey left the room, before glancing at the clock. There was only another hour or so till lunch, he would just have to stick it out until then. Besides, as he took a quick glance of the clock on the wall in front of him he realised that he was currently missing Defence Against the Dark Arts with Snape. Harry felt grateful for that small mercy and relaxed into bed again, closing his eyes to fully enjoy the warmth of the sun now streaming across his face.

Suddenly his brief moment of peace was disturbed as the main doors of the hospital wing burst open with a loud slam. Harry's eyes snapped open and were instantly confronted with the unwelcome sight of his least favourite teacher, who was currently casting his gaze around the room in search of someone or something. Harry clamped his eyes shut again as Snape's head turned in his direction. Just then he heard Madam Pomfrey's footsteps exiting her office again; of course she would have heard the loud bang too.

"And just what is the meaning of this? You cannot just come in here making noise like that, especially when I have a patient!"

It wasn't often Harry got to hear anyone speak to Snape in that manner, and he listened closely with glee for the inevitable snarky reply. He was surprised, however, when Snape remained silent. Slowly opening one eye, he watched as Snape instead walked straight inside Pomfrey's office. Raising her eyebrows, Pomfrey followed him inside and pulled the door almost closed behind her.

His interest now fully piqued, Harry slowly slid out of bed and crept towards the door of Pomfrey's office. It was still open slightly and Harry nudged it open still further as he crouched down to listen to what was happening inside.

"What is it, Severus?"

Snape still did not reply. Harry slowly peeked round to get a glimpse of the inside of Pomfrey's office, just in time to see Snape reach for a piece of parchment and a quill and start scrawling hurriedly. Pomfrey stood beside him with her arms folded, the look on her face now one of complete bemusement. Once Snape had finished writing he passed the parchment to Pomfrey and watched as she read through it, her lips briefly lifting into what could only be described as a grin before quickly settling into their usual position. She looked up at Snape with mirth in her eyes, but when she saw the expression on his face she hurriedly composed her features.

"I see, Severus. This certainly is a… problem."

Harry's imagination was now running wild. Although he certainly found Madam Pomfrey overbearing at the best of times, one thing she could always be counted on to do was to remain professional. What on earth could have provoked that reaction in her, and from Snape of all people? His mind was quickly running through the possibilities, some of which made him wish he could cast a Memory Charm on himself to erase the images from his mind.

"And you say that you believe Fred and George Weasley are responsible for developing the incantation?"

Snape jerked his head up and down once, sharply.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure what to do about it myself. My expertise in charms stretches only to those used for healing purposes. Perhaps Filius could –"

Snape shook his head vehemently. Harry's knees were now starting to ache ever so slightly but he ignored them, desperate to discover what the problem was.

"Well, let's try to find out some more about this. Does it happen every time you try to speak?"

Snape jerked his head up and down again.

"How many times have you tried to speak since this jinx was cast?"

Snape held up two fingers.

"Well," Pomfrey said, her voice now more brisk, "perhaps it's worn off now. Would you be willing to try again?"

Snape looked reluctant, but finally let out a sigh before reaching for the handle of the door. Harry quickly ducked out of sight as the door was shut fully, before pressing his ear against it as hard as he could. He thought he could really do with one of Fred and George's Extendable Ears at this point.

"Go on then, Severus." Pomfrey coaxed.

Another heavy sigh, and then Harry heard the most unexpected sound of his entire life.

_"I cannot speak, but only sing,_

_How do I stop this wretched thing?_

_I cannot carry on like this,_

_My speaking voice I sorely miss._

_And when I find those Weasley twins,_

_I'm going to tear them limb from –"_

"I think I get the idea, Severus," Pomfrey interjected. Snape fell silent once more. On the other side of the door, Harry had managed to jam nearly his whole fist in his mouth to keep from laughing. When he next saw Fred and George he was going to shake their hands, although from the sound of things he would have to get to them before Snape did.

"Well, I'm afraid this is out of my league. Filius really is the expert on Charms here; I think he might be able to help you. Unless you were to contact Fred and George Weasley?"

Harry could only imagine Snape's expression on the other side of the door.

"It was just a suggestion Severus, no need to look at me like that. I do hope you get it sorted soon but there's nothing I can do for you here." He heard the sound of footsteps moving towards the door and sprinted towards his bed, launching himself under the covers just as the door opened. "See Filius," she urged.

_"I most certainly will not,_

_I'd rather die, be left to rot_

_Than let one more member of the staff_

_Listen to my plight and laugh."_

Harry snorted then hastily tried to cover it up, which led him to suffer a brief coughing fit. He attempted to once again feign sleep as the coughs subsided, but could feel Snape's eyes piercing him. The silence which then fell in the room was almost deafening, only to be broken by Madam Pomfrey's next question.

"Were you able to control it that time?"

Harry sneaked one eye open again to catch Snape shaking his head in a staccato manner.

"It seems like it's getting worse, then. Frankly, I don't think you have much of a choice," she said. "Good day, Severus." Pomfrey span round smartly on her heel, shooting a quick glance in Harry's direction and giving him what Harry could swear was nearly a smile before once again entering her office. Harry's eyes shot quickly towards Snape, who had a face like thunder as he finally stormed out of the hospital wing.

Alone once again, Harry sat up, a broad grin beginning to spread all over his face. He'd seen Fred and George a couple of nights ago in the hospital wing when they were visiting Ron, but from the sound of things they weren't the ones who'd cast the spell. As far as he was concerned, however, whoever had done it deserved a medal. He even thought, as he lay back contentedly, that perhaps it was worth almost getting his head smashed in for.


	3. Chapter 3

Unaware of Harry's current, albeit unknowing, admiration of him, Ron Weasley was currently sat frozen in his seat in the Defence of the Dark Arts classroom. He was surrounded by the whispers of the other students punctuated by the occasional giggle, and as usual Hermione was sitting next to him, working intently. The volume of work Snape had set them was even larger than usual but Ron, snatching a quick peek at her work, could see she was already halfway through. He, however, had not written a single word. His rising sense of panic at the situation he now found himself in was interrupted by a nudge from Hermione.

"Ron, what are you doing? Professor Snape wants these on his desk at the end of the lesson, he'll be furious if you haven't done the work," she said disapprovingly.

"He's going to kill me, Hermione," Ron replied weakly. "He''s actually going to kill me this time. Has he ever killed a student before? What are my mum and dad going to say?"

"Ron," Hermione began, firmly, "I really don't think he's going to murder you just because a spell backfired. Although you really should have checked what it does before you used it, I wouldn't trust Fred and George with anything. You could've killed - "

"Oh cheers, Hermione," snapped Ron. "Good to know you're as reassuring as always." He turned away to look back at the board, but in his dazed state he still couldn't make head or tail of the instructions that Snape had left for them.

"I just meant," said Hermione, "that it's dangerous to use untested, unverified spells without even knowing what they're for. I've been telling Harry this all along, you know that."

"This was Fred and George though!" exclaimed Ron, causing a few students to look in their direction. Ron lowered his voice back to a whisper. "They're not exactly Death Eaters, are they?"

"No, of course not, Ronald," hissed Hermione, now growing impatient, "but that doesn't mean that those spells are safe! And the same goes for the Prince's!"

"Oh, would you just shut up about the Prince, Hermione!"

Their argument was interrupted by a tap on Ron's shoulder, who when he looked around saw Seamus grinning at him, having walked over from his own seat. "You alright, mate?" he asked in his strong Irish brogue. "That was amazing, what you did to Snape earlier."

"It was?" Ron looked confused.

"Sure it was! I mean, Fred and George were great when they were here and everything, don't get me wrong, but no one's ever actually jinxed Snape face-to-face before, have they? That was really cool."

Ron sat up a little in his seat. "Yeah, yeah I guess it was, wasn't it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, please," she muttered under her breath.

"And you survived being poisoned too," said Seamus in awe.

"Yes he did!" cried Lavender, who during the conversation had crept up unnoticed behind Ron and now threw his arms around his neck. "How brilliant my wonderful Won-Won is!"

Hermione now looked faintly green and swivelled around on her stool, continuing to scribble away at her work while studiously avoiding both Ron and Lavender.

"Er, yeah," Ron said. They had fought earlier that day after he had gotten out of the hospital wing so he was confused by her current behaviour. He missed the sidelong glance Lavender was currently giving Hermione as his head was now in a very uncomfortable position. He wriggled around in an attempt to adjust it but Lavender clung on tight.

"I can't believe I'm going out with you. You're the bravest, best boy in the whole school," sighed Lavender dreamily.

"Um, right," said Ron. "Would you mind just letting go of me now though? I can't really breathe."

"Oh, of course, my little Won-Won!" exclaimed Lavender, doing what Ron had asked but not before giving him an even tighter squeeze and kissing him on the cheek. "Is there another Hogsmeade weekend soon? We really must go on another date," she said, all the while looking at Hermione who was still ignoring the couple. "I'll see you later, Won-Won." She drifted back to her seat and immediately leaned over to whisper to Parvati before the pair burst out into giggles, looking over at Ron.

Ron flushed and sank down in his seat. Seamus, who had been looking on with concealed amusement, clapped Ron on the shoulder before returning to his own seat.

"So, er," began Ron nervously, turning to Hermione. "Did you hear that? Bravest boy in the whole school, apparently."

"I really must get on with this, 'Won-Won'," Hermione said, still not looking up, "and so should you, I doubt Snape's exactly going to have the same opinion of you as Lavender does when he gets back."

Ron gulped, having been so busy basking in the admiration of Seamus and Lavender that he had briefly forgotten about Snape. He resumed staring at his piece of parchment blankly for a while before glancing up at the board again, having forgotten what they were supposed to be doing. As he read through the instructions for the umpteenth time he caught a glimpse of Malfoy in the corner of his eye. He noticed that the Slytherin was as pale and withdrawn as he always was these days, and came to the decision that he must have imagined the fleeting smile he had worn on his face as Snape started singing.

He forgot about his work as he theorised about the argument Harry had heard him having with Snape before Christmas, but then realised that he had perhaps been gazing in Malfoy's direction for too long when the blond boy looked up at him and scowled before returning to his work. Ron quickly looked away, putting all thoughts of both Malfoy and Snape out of his head as he finally picked up his quill and sighed. Between Snape, Hermione, Lavender and the whole being poisoned on his birthday thing, he thought, he could really do with a holiday.


	4. Chapter 4

Minerva McGonagall strolled briskly into the empty Hogwarts staffroom and headed straight for the teapot on the counter, which was enchanted with a permanent Refilling Charm. She proceeded to pour herself a cup, add milk and sugar and pluck out a couple of biscuits from the well-stocked tin before lowering herself into a comfortable armchair with a sigh. She had had a hectic morning; the second-year Slytherins had been even more rowdy than usual during her first Transfiguration lesson of the day, and just before lunch her NEWT Ravenclaws had worked so intensely that even she had struggled to keep up with their progress. She was, however, feeling more refreshed after a good lunch in the Great Hall and was looking forward to a relaxing afternoon, as she was not timetabled to teach for the rest of the day. She leaned back into her seat and took a sip of tea, contemplating what she would do with her free time.

"Sickle for your thoughts, Minerva?"

McGonagall started, not having noticed that Professor Flitwick had entered the room and was currently perching on a sofa near her.

"My apologies, Filius. It has been a busy morning. How are you?"

"Very well, thank you Minerva," Flitwick said, wriggling back in order to get more comfortable. "It was a shame your Gryffindors lost that Quidditch match yesterday; I do hope they are all well for the next one against Ravenclaw."

McGonagall appreciated the tone of genuine concern in Flitwick's voice. Although he greatly enjoyed Quidditch, Flitwick was very fond of the students and did not at all rejoice in their injuries, even if they meant his own house's chances of winning a match were increased.

"Thank you Filius, I am optimistic they will be. I talked with Poppy at the beginning of lunch who has informed me that Mr Weasley and Mr Potter are now fit and have been released from the hospital wing." As she spoke the staffroom door swung open and Professor Slughorn walked in, carrying a bag of crystallised pineapple and a copy of the Daily Prophet under his arm. He nodded to the other two in greeting and then spoke, having caught the end of McGonagall's last sentence.

"Ah, young Reg Weasley better, then? I am glad to hear that, I did feel terribly guilty about what happened," Slughorn said whilst sinking down onto the sofa, a look of genuine contrition on his face.

"Not to worry, Horace, you weren't to know," said Flitwick gently, reaching over to pat his arm. "And he is well again, that is what matters."

Slughorn did not look comforted. "I could have easily drunk that myself, or Dumbledore even. How fortunate we were that Harry was there!"

"Indeed, indeed," said Flitwick soothingly, turning back to McGonagall to continue their conversation. "And what of Katie Bell?"

"Still at St Mungo's, I'm afraid," McGonagall said with a sigh. She recalled her most recent trip to visit Katie Bell, who was still unresponsive. The Healers assured her that Katie would wake up when she was ready, reminding her that Katie had just survived what was possibly a very powerful Dark curse. This was small consolation for her parents, however, who were taking turns to stay by her side, afraid to leave her alone.

"Well, hopefully she will be back with us soon enough," said Flitwick. "And hopefully this will also mean the end of any unfortunate accidents at Hog…"

Flitwick trailed off, distracted by a highly unusual sight. Hogwarts' most feared teacher, normally so forboding and strict, was currently poking his head around the doorway. Clearly reluctant to enter the staffroom for whatever reason, Snape's gaze was now panning across the room until his eyes alighted on Flitwick himself. He then jerked his head irritably, unmistakably gesturing to Flitwick to leave the staffroom.

Flitwick looked unsurely at McGonagall, who had raised an eyebrow. Slughorn, who had had one ear on the conversation whilst perusing the Daily Prophet, looked up from his paper as Flitwick stopped speaking.

"Ah, Severus. Come in, m'boy. What are you doing out -" Snape had sharply placed a finger at his lips, shaking his head vigorously to silence Slughorn.

"Severus, is everything-" Flitwick was cut off as Snape's head spun around to him, his finger still at his lips. McGonagall was now watching the scene with interest. Snape half-entered the room, opening the door wider and then jabbing his finger first at Flitwick, then through the door. Flitwick rose to follow Snape's directions but McGonagall held out an arm to stop him, the beginnings of a smile appearing on her face.

"Oh, I'm sure there's no need for that, Filius. There are no secrets between members of staff, are there? I'm sure whatever Severus has to say can be said in here."

Snape glared at McGonagall, looking furious. Flitwick hesitated but eventually sat back down again, while Slughorn folded his paper and put it aside, popping a piece of crystallised pineapple in his mouth.

"Well, Severus," McGonagall urged, "What is it? Spit it out."

Both McGonagall's pleasure and curiosity increased at Snape's obvious discomfort with the situation, but for what reason she could not imagine. Just when she thought Snape was going to leave without saying a word, he entered the staffroom, but she quickly discovered that he had not done so of his own volition. Behind him was Professor Trelawney, who had - somewhat rudely - shoved Snape into the room, before closing the door behind her. The sight of Trelawney in the staffroom was unusual in itself, and the other members of staff were momentarily distracted.

"Well, really, blocking the doorway. Most discourteous of you," Trelawney was looking at Snape disapprovingly, whilst he glared back at her, uncharacteristically somewhat flustered. McGonagall was now highly intrigued; surely Snape would have fired out a vicious insult or two by this point, but instead he almost looked as though he was struggling not to speak.

"Good afternoon, Sybill, what brings you here? We don't normally see you in these parts," asked Flitwick, who was clearly trying to make some sense of what was turning out to be a very strange lunchtime.

"Dumbledore refuses to get rid of that… that… horse! I will not tolerate this any longer, I really won't." Trelawney was shaking with fury, and McGonagall wrinkled her nose as she detected a faint whiff of cooking sherry emanating from Trelawney's direction.

"Are you planning to leave us then, Sybill? That would be a shame," she said, not entirely sincerely.

"I most certainly am not! I have no intention of letting that… animal run me out of this school! I want one of you to come with me to the Headmaster and tell him that the horse needs to go."

McGonagall rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to Snape, who was now pressing his lips tightly together and staring at Trelawney in distaste.

"What is the matter with you, Severus? Cat got your tongue?" She smiled at her own joke.

"Never mind him, Minerva! Who is going to come with me? That horse needs to go!"

"I do wish you wouldn't talk about him like that," interrupted Flitwick, looking distressed. "I think it's wonderful that we have a centaur on the staff, and the children certainly seem to respond to him. Besides, he cannot go back to his herd now."

"I do not care where he goes! As long as-"

_"Stop it, shut up, all of you,_

_I've had enough, that's it, I'm through,_

_I have been jinxed and cannot speak,_

_I'd like some help sometime this week!"_

Trelawney now forgotten, the rest of the teachers now turned towards Snape in complete astonishment. McGonagall blinked in surprise. Whatever she had been expecting, it most certainly hadn't been that. She was, however, thoroughly enjoying the fact that Snape looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was Slughorn who got there first.

"That's certainly a lovely baritone you've got there, m'boy. Kept that well-hidden, haven't you? He could even join your little choir, couldn't he?" he said, directing his question towards the diminutive Charms professor.

"Oh yes, yes of course," said Flitwick, still somewhat surprised. "A jinx, you say, Severus? How very interesting, I don't think I've seen this one before. Who was it?"

Snape desperately cast his eyes around for some parchment and a quill, but in vain as his reply burst forth.

_"It was Weasley cast this spell,_

_And plunged me in this endless hell,_

_But it was written by his brothers,_

_The twins, of course, not any others."_

Flitwick nodded. "Ah, yes, it does seem like the work of Fred and George Weasley. A very inventive pair indeed. Is there not a counterjinx?"

"I doubt Severus would want to lower himself to contacting the Weasley twins," McGonagall interjected sarcastically, knowing her colleague well.

"Let's see what we can do for you then, Severus." Flitwick stood up and drew out his wand, placing himself opposite where Snape stood.

"These Weasley twins have left now, have they? What a shame, I think I would have dearly liked the chance to get to know them. I imagine that's where young Ginevra gets it from," Slughorn said jovially, rummaging around in his paper bag for another piece of crystallised pineapple.

"Let's try something simple to start with, shall we? _Finite incantatum_."

The others looked on as a blast of light hit Snape, before fading away. Snape opened his mouth tentatively.

_"That hasn't worked, try something else,_

_I will deal with this no more."_

"It's stopped him rhyming, anyway," McGonagall observed, causing Flitwick to grin.

"Yes, most unusual; I shall really have to ask the Weasley twins about this spell," he said happily. "Alright Severus, let's try another one. _Silencio_!"

Snape opened his mouth to speak, but found he could not make any sound at all. He looked momentarily satisfied before realising that this new situation was no better.

"Very interesting." Flitwick seemed to be thinking. "They could have used a transformative base to the spell, or perhaps a basic speech suppressant…"

_"I do not care how they wrote it,_

_I just want it fixed,_

_How am I supposed to teach like thiiiiiiiiiiiis?"_

Snape held onto the last word for an unfeasibly long length of time, jumping up a couple of octaves to what was actually a rather impressive falsetto; McGonagall had to bite her lip to suppress a most uncharacteristic fit of the giggles.

"Ah, that shouldn't have worn off so quickly," said Flitwick. "I must confess I am at a bit of a loss, Severus; this spell seems more unstable than I thought. I am worried that if I try anything further you could suffer adverse effects."

Snape looked distinctly disgruntled at this but did not reply.

"You could try Albus," McGonagall suggested, "although he won't be back until after dinner; I believe he's at the Ministry this afternoon." She privately thought the Headmaster would quite like to see this for himself.

Snape seemed reluctant, but after a final glance at Flitwick, who shrugged his shoulders, he nodded in resignation and turned to leave. Suddenly remembering something, he span back around.

_"I have classes all afternoon,_

_Who is going to teach them?_

_I refuse to go as I am,_

_I will be mo-ooo-ocked no more."_

McGonagall knew her colleague well enough to realise that he would be true to his word. Watching her peaceful afternoon fade away, she couldn't believe what she was just about to do.

"I'll take them, Severus, I have no classes of my own this afternoon." Almost as soon as she said it she wished she could take the words back, but the offer was there now. Besides, even through her amusement, she supposed she did feel a little bit of pity for him. Deep, deep down.

Snape stared at her, trying to determine whether the offer was genuine.

"You will owe me, however. I think taking all of my detentions for the next week will suffice?"

Snape looked as though he realised he did not have a choice. He nodded reluctantly and made once again to leave.

"Wait, you're going to the Headmaster this evening? I shall accompany you, you can tell him about that nag."

Snape glared at her, his eyes blazing. Trelawney was momentarily frozen to the spot in fear; Snape took the opportunity to quickly sweep out of the staffroom, banging the door shut behind him.

"Well." Trelawney recovered and turned back to survey the rest of the staff, pushing her glasses further back onto her nose so that her already-large eyes were magnified even more. "It is clear that I will receive no help from my colleagues here, you should all be thoroughly ashamed. I will now return to my rightful place in the Divination tower; I can feel my Inner Eye becoming more clouded by the minute." With this she reached out for the doorknob, struggling for a few moments with the heavy oak door before finally opening it enough to squeeze her thin, bony figure through the gap.

The staffroom was quiet for a few moments before Slughorn burst out laughing. Flitwick joined him and even McGonagall relaxed into a wry smile.

"Well, as wonderful as this has been, I believe it is now time for lessons once more," said Slughorn, who was still chuckling. He folded the top of his paper bag and began to get up. The other two also rose, McGonagall's smile momentarily fading as she looked at her forgotten cup of tea and thought of the prospect of a full afternoon of lessons ahead of her. As she exited through the door that Slughorn was currently holding open for them however, she decided that it was a small price to pay; the look on Snape's face as he had been unable to control his singing was one that would stay with her for some time to come.


	5. Chapter 5

Evening arrived at Hogwarts, the sky reddening from the swiftly-setting sun. A gentle breeze blew across the grounds, causing the branches of the Whomping Willow to sway peacefully. From his office, Albus Dumbledore could hear the distant sounds of shouting and laughter drifting towards him from the Quidditch pitch, and looked over in that direction to see a group of students dressed in blue passing a bright red ball between them.

Dumbledore moved from his position by the window and settled down at his desk, reflecting on the afternoon he had had with the Minister of Magic, from whom he had just returned. Rufus Scrimgeour was someone he had known well for several years his work as Head of the Auror Office, and he respected his no-nonsense approach and the measures he had implemented to ensure that his department was as strong as it could ever be. He disagreed, however, with some of his ideas as Minister, in particular his keenness to use Harry Potter as some sort of beacon of hope for the Ministry; Dumbledore had clashed with the Minister over this on several occasions and was dismayed to hear that Scrimgeour had managed to finally gain access to Harry over Christmas.

His thoughts having turned to Harry, he checked at the clock to see that he was due in a couple of hours for their latest appointment. He hoped that Harry had managed to get the correct memory concerning Horcruxes from Slughorn. They would not be able to make much more progress without that memory, and Dumbledore was aware now more than ever how limited his time was.

His musings were interrupted by a magical alert, informing him of the fact that Severus Snape was heading up the long, spiralling flight of stairs to his office. He looked down at his blackened, shrivelled hand, slowly flexing it into a fist and then straightening it out again. He contemplated what he had asked Snape to do for him; he knew he was asking a lot, knew that he was testing Snape's loyalty to the limit, but he had no choice. There was no other way, no matter how often and how ardently Snape protested. Besides, Dumbledore thought, perhaps he had lived for too long, made too many mistakes. As much as he would have liked to see out the rest of the war, he had full faith in Harry; the boy had consistently proved himself to be wiser and braver than his years.

A sharp rapping at the door brought Dumbledore back to the present moment, and he called for Snape to enter. Snape marched in and immediately helped himself to a seat on the other side of Dumbledore's desk, sitting ramrod-straight, his black eyes glistening.

"Ah, Severus. No sherbet lemons today, I'm afraid. I was however just about to test out one of these charming new sweets from Diagon Alley. I'm sure you're familiar with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?"

Snape shuddered at the mention.

"I passed in today on my way back. Look at these." He brought out a brightly coloured packet emblazoned with the words 'Canary Creams'. "How fun. According to George Weasley, they temporarily transfigure you into a canary! Care to try one?"

Snape looked at Dumbledore as though he was mad.

"Very well," Dumbledore said, unperturbed. "You will not mind, however, if I indulge? I must admit I am immensely curious, and I am assured that the effects last no longer than a minute."

Snape briefly raised his eyes to the ceiling, resigned to what was about to happen. Dumbledore opened the packet and plucked out one of the Canary Creams, closely examining it before turning to Snape with a big smile and then popping the sweet into his mouth. There was an instant puff of smoke and in Dumbledore's place sat a large, round canary, one of its wings slightly withered and blackened. Fawkes the phoenix, perched sleepily by Dumbledore's desk, turned its head languidly to examine this new development. Snape waited impatiently while the canary attempted to fly; however, impeded by its injured wing it spent the minute hopping around on its desk before returning to the chair and once more transforming into the Hogwarts headmaster.

"My goodness me, how marvellous," said Dumbledore happily, placing the rest of the packet into a drawer in his desk. "I am pleased that we managed to teach Fred and George Weasley more than their exam results reflected." Snape huffed impatiently.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit today, Severus?" Dumbledore was intrigued by the uncharacteristic look on Snape's face, which was less composed than he was used to. Snape reached into his robes and brought out a folded piece of parchment, which Dumbledore read through his half-moon glasses. Upon finishing, he chuckled and turned to Snape, whose face darkened in imitation of the oncoming dusk outside.

"I see you've already been subjected to the Weasley twins today, then," said Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "And I assume you now want this… 'fixed'?"

Snape nodded emphatically.

"A shame, really," Dumbledore sighed, "It is an affliction that many could do with suffering from once in a while." He skimmed the note again. "You say you've already tried Filius but the jinx is unstable? You will not, however, try the Weasley twins?"

Snape shook his head vigorously, his hands clenching the armrests of his chair.

"Ah, my boy," Dumbledore rose, turning once more to view the darkening sky. He noted that the sounds from the Quidditch pitch had now disappeared as the evening drew in. "We must not allow our prejudices to separate us from those best placed to help us. Or is it pride?"

Snape glared at Dumbledore's back, folding his arms in front of his body. Dumbledore did not seem to expect an answer but instead let out a heavy sigh before turning back to Snape.

"I trust and value Filius' abilities most highly, Severus. If he has not been able to help you, it is certainly not for lack of effort or talent. I'm afraid I share his opinion; it is dangerous to try to counteract an unstable spell as the effects can indeed be most grave. The safest way to restore yourself to normal is to go to those from whom the spell originated."

Snape shook his head in disbelief before opening his mouth to protest.

"I will not go to those insufferable Weasley twins, Headmaster. Is it not bad enough I had to cope with them while they were here?"

Snape took another breath, ready to tell Dumbledore exactly what he thought of the Weasley clan, before realising what had happened and closing his mouth again, puzzled. Dumbledore looked equally surprised. Snape cleared his throat.

"I… I believe I am able to speak normally again, Headmaster." He still looked confused.

"Yes," said Dumbledore slowly. He contemplated Snape for a moment. "It is possible that, as the spell was unstable, the effects have worn off naturally. You haven't been able to speak at all since the jinx was cast?"

"No, Headmaster."

"Well then, Severus, it appears to have rectified itself. Is there anything else you wanted from me?"

"There is not."

"Then, if you do not mind Severus, I will bid you a good evening; I have much to get through in the next couple of hours. I shall see you at breakfast?"

Snape nodded. "Good evening, Headmaster." He rose stiffly from his seat but then suddenly let out a cry of agony. Dumbledore rose in concern and quickly moved around to Snape's side of the desk. Snape had dropped to his knees, clutching his left forearm. Dumbledore knelt down beside him and pulled up the sleeve of Snape's robes to see the Dark Mark angrily burning his pale, sallow skin.

"You must make haste, Severus," Dumbledore said, slowly helping Snape up. "Good luck, my boy."

Snape had gone white, but his breathing eased as the effects of the Dark Mark started to lessen. He gave Dumbledore a quick nod of acknowledgement before hurrying out of the room.

Dumbledore stared at the door at which Snape had just walked through, worried. As a spy for the Order for the Phoenix, Snape was constantly in a precarious position, ensconced as he was in Lord Voldemort's inner circle. He marvelled at the way the younger man handled the situation but was aware that it took its toll, and that one wrong move from Snape would mean his life. He could only send his best wishes with Snape and hope for his safe return.

Snape had barely been gone for a minute before Dumbledore heard a loud banging on his door. He moved to check his magical alert but the need for this was soon negated by an angry voice filtering through from the other side of the door.

"Albus? Albus! Are you in there? Albus!"

Dumbledore sighed and placed his quill back down. "Come in, Sybill."

The door opened to reveal the shabby, flustered figure of Trelawney; having imbibed more sherry as the afternoon had worn on, she now seemed distinctly unsteady on her feet in addition to her increasing agitation.

"Headmaster, I have just seen Severus Snape heading from this office! I assume you know about my objections to the nag, then?"

Dumbledore took off his spectacles, wiped his eyes with a handkerchief and placed them back on his nose. It had been a long day.

"I only know the objections you have made clear to me, Sybill."

"Well, isn't that just perfect," Trelawney crossed her arms, looking annoyed. "He was supposed to support me on this; I take it he was as rude and self-obsessed as he normally is? Didn't mention a word about Dobbin?"

"He did not, Sybill," Dumbledore's voice was harder now. "I would, however, appreciate it if you were not to refer to Firenze in those terms. He is a perfectly competent and pleasant member of staff and an asset to the school, regardless of his species."

Trelawney remained silent for a moment as Dumbledore turned back to his papers, but then launched into another, longer rant about Firenze. Dumbledore let the words wash over him, his mind on Snape and on what events might be transpiring with Lord Voldemort this evening.


	6. Chapter 6

There was a hush in the dark, shadowy room as a steady stream of cloaked figures Apparated in, their bronze masks glinting in the candlelight. Bellatrix Lestrange stood impatiently in her place in the circle as everyone assembled, awaiting the arrival of the Dark Lord. The room was filled with soft whisperings and murmurings as more people entered, echoing the rustling of the leaves outside. A tall, imposing figure was one of the last to arrive and immediately took up a place beside Bellatrix, clutching their mask in their hand. Bellatrix looked across to the newest arrival.

"Severus. Cutting it a bit fine, aren't we?"

"Bellatrix." Snape nodded back at her, his lip curling. "Regrettably, we cannot all enjoy the same amount of leisure time as you."

Bellatrix turned to face the middle of the circle again, seething. "Do not underestimate my importance to or influence with the Dark Lord, Severus," she hissed, her dark eyes gleaming in the flickering light.

"You flatter yourself," Snape shot back, calmly fitting his mask into place. "You are accorded as much influence and importance as the Dark Lord allows you to have, and it can all be taken away in an instant. Never forget that, Bellatrix."

She did not appreciate the veiled threat, instead lifting her chin higher and keeping her gaze fixed in the centre of the circle. She had made her feelings about Snape clear to the Dark Lord many times, but he had always looked back at her, his red eyes piercing her very being as he refuted her accusations. Had not Severus fed them valuable information from the Order of the Phoenix on several occasions? Had he not proven his loyalty to the cause by remaining at his post for many years when the Dark Lord fell? Bellatrix had acknowledged these points with extreme reluctance, but she could not shake the feeling that all was not as it seemed with the Dark Lord's treasured spy. She continued to make her objections until the Dark Lord reminded her, unkindly, that it was Severus Snape who had uncovered the prophecy concerning himself and Harry Potter in the first place, and that she and Rodolphus, along with her brothers-in-law Rabastan and Lucius, were the ones responsible for its loss in the Department of Mysteries. This had finally silenced Bellatrix, but beneath the surface her anger towards Snape still bubbled, ready to be unleashed if Severus made so much as a single misstep.

"Where is Draco? Did he not feel his master's call?" Bellatrix resolutely refused to look at Snape still.

"Please, Bellatrix, I had credited you with a modicum more sense than that; I see I was dearly mistaken," Snape sneered. "Draco is, of course, unable to leave the grounds of Hogwarts outside of the holiday periods; the wards would alert Dumbledore easily to the absence of a student. The Dark Lord knows this, and as such does not expect Draco here tonight. As close to the Dark Lord as you undoubtedly are, I confess myself most surprised that you were not aware of this yourself," Snape finished, his tone betraying the fact that he clearly thought the exact opposite.

Bellatrix recoiled as though she had been slapped; she did not like her position as the Dark Lord's right-hand Death Eater questioned in any way. She thought once more on how foolish her sister had been to turn to Severus for help, little understanding what an honour it was for her son to be hand-picked to accomplish such an important task by the Dark Lord himself. The fact that Snape had agreed to make the Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa had thrown her, however; perhaps he truly did have as much desire as she did to see Dumbledore dead, no matter how it was done.

She was distracted from her thoughts as a loud crack broke the relative silence of the large hall they were in, followed instantly by the appearance of the tall, skeletal figure of Lord Voldemort, dark blood-red eyes looking around the room from his pale, snake-like face. Silence heavily blanketed the occupants of the room as Voldemort took a place in the middle of the circle.

"I need not remind you, my friends," Voldemort said, eyeing each of the Death Eaters in turn, "how depleted we are in number. We have lost many to Azkaban as a result of their own incompetence. Lucius Malfoy, Antonin Dolahov, Rodolphus Lestrange." Bellatrix remained impassive as Voldemort's eyes passed over her at the mention of her husband. "Although they are by no means forgiven for the fiasco of last summer, I must acknowledge that we are now too few. If I am not let down yet again," Voldemort's voice was icy cold, causing some present to shiver in fear, "we will have them back with us by the summer. I warn you however, that I will not tolerate their failure - or yours - again."

"But this shall be dealt with later," Voldemort finally came to a stop, and turned towards a relatively tall figure, blond hair tied back in a ponytail. "First I wish to hear from you, Yaxley."

Yaxley stepped forwards towards Voldemort, lowering himself to one knee with a bow. "My Lord."

Voldemort gestured for him to rise, and Yaxley did so, placing his arms behind his back.

"What news of the Ministry, Yaxley? What progress have you made since last we spoke?"

"My Lord, security at the Ministry is still very tight." Voldemort began pacing again. "I regret to report that our latest attempt to infiltrate the Ministry did not succeed."

"Most unfortunate, indeed," Voldemort said, in a tone that left many in the room unsure as to whether he was commiserating with Yaxley or threatening him. "The details, if you will."

As Yaxley began to talk, Bellatrix tuned out, having already heard most of the story before. A misplaced Imperius Curse on the Minister of Magic by Selwyn had been witnessed by one of the Aurors responsible for his security; it was all they could do to get away without being exposed or their identities revealed. She had heard from Yaxley that his next plan was to attempt to cast the curse on the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Pius Thicknesse; however this would doubtless take many months of planning, and therefore would most likely not take place until the summer. She noticed Yaxley stepping back into his place and began to pay attention once more.

"Severus, step forward."

Bellatrix looked on as Snape walked to the middle of the circle, kneeling down on one leg as Yaxley had done and bowing low towards Voldemort. "My Lord."

"Rise, Severus. What news of the Order?"

"My Lord, the Order still hopes to form an alliance with the werewolves; they have even sent the werewolf Remus Lupin to live amongst them in order to convince them to change their allegiances. However, he reports no success."

Voldemort nodded. "Greyback still has influence on them, I see. Good. They are valuable to our cause."

"Indeed, my lord."

"What else?"

"Well, my lord, I have heard that -" Snape suddenly stopped speaking and began to cough incessantly. Voldemort looked on in mild curiosity as Snape almost choked before he was suddenly able to take a few deep breaths.

"Severus? If you are not going to die at this precise moment, proceed with your report." Some of the other Death Eaters present sniggered at this, but were quickly silenced again by a sharp glance in their direction from Voldemort.

Bellatrix watched on, disinterested, as Snape cleared his throat and took a breath to continue speaking.

_"Your love is like a Bludger to my heart_

_I can't beat it away_

_Your eyes glisten like a Golden Snitch_

_On a rainy day -"_

Snape was interrupted by another hacking cough, after which he fell silent. The only sound that could be heard in the room was that of Voldemort's snake, Nagini, hissing as it slithered through the ring of Death Eaters to where Lord Voldemort stood. The Death Eaters present stood in shock, Bellatrix among them. Her mind raced with questions. What on earth did Snape think he was up to? Had he finally cracked under pressure? And most importantly, what on earth was he singing?

She saw Goyle Sr. lean in to Crabbe Sr. at the other side of the circle. "That's the new Celestina Warbeck I was telling you about." The whisper carried across the room, causing what was visible of Snape's face around his mask to turn red and Voldemort to stare at him curiously.

"Severus?" Voldemort looked on as Snape sunk into the lowest bow given to him so far.

_"My Lord, I am most deeply apologetic,_

_I have been jinxed by a student, you must think me pathetic,_

_I have endeavoured all day to break the spell with no luck,_

_It stopped for but a moment, but then came back, oh - "_

"Enough, Severus!" Snape fell silent, horrified. Bellatrix, who was used to Snape's unrevealing demeanour, wished more than anything that she was able to see the expression on his face at that precise moment. She scoffed inwardly; how Cissy would regret her decision to entrust her son's life to Snape when she heard of this. From the sounds of it, the man could not even protect himself against his own student!

Voldemort paced again in silence before once more stopping and staring straight into Snape's eyes. "A student, you say? I would dearly love to hear the identity of the student who can best one of my most skillful followers."

Snape ducked his head, avoiding the intense gaze of the man directly opposite him. After a few moments he lifted his head again in apparent resignation.

_"This dratted jinx was cast on me,_

_By a student called Ronald Weasley,_

_I was not ready, not prepared,_

_The spell caught me unaware."_

"A Weasley," Voldemort mused. "You allowed yourself to be blindsided by a blood-traitor? Most careless of you, Severus," Voldemort's voice dripped with sarcasm, the other Death Eaters laughing nastily at Snape's plight.

"He mocks you, my Lord!" Bellatrix shouted. "Unable to defend himself against a talentless, unworthy child! He disgraces us all!"

"Silence, Bella!" She stepped back, feeling the sting of the rebuke but still watching the scene intently.

Voldemort contemplated Snape for a long moment, the other Death Eaters shifting uneasily.

"Well, it seems we are faced with a problem," Voldemort said at last. "I certainly wish you to be present here no longer in this state." Snape bowed his head once more. "However, you have been one of my most loyal and, apart from this… incident, one of my least incompetent followers." Voldemort glared keenly around the rest of the circle, silencing those Death Eaters who were still snickering.

"Leave us, Severus." Snape's head quickly shot up, his eyes meeting Voldemort's own. "Correct this… ailment of yours. The sound of your singing is certainly something I never wish to hear again." This elicited a few titters from the surrounding Death Eaters, which quickly died away.

"And be warned, Severus." Voldemort stood completely still, his red eyes blazing. "If you come before me like this again, I will not be so lenient."

Snape made a quick bow before turning on the spot and Disapparating. As Voldemort called the next Death Eater forward, Bellatrix stood silently, fuming. Severus Snape had shown blatent disrespect to the Dark Lord by coming before him in that condition, and yet had escaped with nothing more than a reprimand! She breathed heavily, trying to keep her temper in check, as she resolved to thwart Snape's plans. Planning to contact Draco as soon as possible, she swore to herself that if anyone would kill that old fool Dumbledore, it would be she. A smirk spread across her face. She would show her Lord that it was she, not Snape, who was her most loyal and faithful follower.


	7. Chapter 7

The moonlight shone across the cobbles as a lone figure strode up the deserted street, those few souls brave enough to venture out to Diagon Alley during the day having returned home long before darkness fell. The figure turned his head from left to right, reading the signs emblazoned across the many shops lining the street, before finally halting as it seemed to have found the one it was looking for. Flashes of multicoloured light emanated from the windows, and from inside a loud banging and whistling could be heard.

Inside, Fred and George Weasley were huddled underneath one of the many tables displaying their stock in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, loudly attempting to conduct a conversation over the din that currently filled their shop.

"Who'd have thought that was going to happen, mate?! This is so awesome!"

"Woah, look at those ones!"

"I know! Why have we never let off so many of these at once before?!"

They stayed underneath the desk, loudly marvelling at the many rockets and wheels that were currently whizzing around the shop, before at last the noise subsided and the sparks faded away to be replaced by nothing but the pale twilight streaming into the room from outside. Fred and George exchanged a quick glance with one another before warily crawling out from their makeshift shelter and straightening up. They cast their eyes around the room, looking at the damage.

"Not too bad, Fred, not too bad." George brushed himself down. "Looks like they mainly hit the WonderWitch shelves." He stepped forwards to inspect them further. "Yep, some of the love potions need replacing but everything else should be fine."

"Got some of the Muggle stuff as well, George." Fred said, grabbing a fez from the table in question and sticking it on his carrot-red hair.

"What's that, mate? Can't hear you, my ears are ringing like crazy," grinned George.

"Maybe next time try not to chuck the Decoy Detonators in the wrong box, eh?" Fred winked at his brother before pulling out his wand and waving some packets back onto the shelves from which they had fallen.

"If you'd just labelled them correctly…" George retorted good-naturedly. The pair carried on exchanging friendly banter as they put the shop to rights, and within a few short moments it was back to its usual state of organised chaos.

"Well, Fred, we've done a pretty good job," Fred said, hands on his hips as he looked around, satisfied.

"Yep, good thing we'd already stashed the rest of the defence stock in the back room, that stuff's flying out like crazy."

"Did you see how much we sold today?" Fred opened up the till, emptying out handfuls of coins into small brown sacks. Made a decent profit, we have - more than enough to replace those potions, anyway."

George nodded in agreement, waving his wand to close the curtains as the pair got ready to lock up for the night. For a few minutes they worked quietly, their movements as smooth as clockwork as they went through the same routine they had done for months now. After ensuring that everything valuable was locked away and their magical defences were in place they would head upstairs to their little flat, where they would grab a bite to eat and maybe test some new products before grabbing some sleep, ready to start all over again the next day. They were currently putting more hard work into their shop than they had ever done with anything else in their lives, but it was unmistakably paying off; even though people were now reluctant to visit Diagon Alley at all due to increased Death Eater activity their business was thriving. It seemed that, even with all of the trouble and uncertainty in the Wizarding World at the moment, people were still eager for a good laugh, and Fred and George were always willing to provide.

A loud hammering at the door disturbed the peace and quiet that had finally fallen in the shop, making Fred jump. He and George exchanged puzzled expressions before George went over to the window and nudged the curtain open a tiny bit, peeking outside. He quickly withdrew from the window and looked at Fred, astounded.

"You'll never guess who it is, mate." Fred's questioning reply was cut off as the sharp banging continued. Instead he walked over to the window and took a peek for himself, taking a moment to figure out who their mysterious visitor was in the darkness. He drew back in realisation.

"Old Snape?! What on earth's he doing here?"

The banging ceased momentarily, only to shortly resume more insistent than ever. Fred and George looked at each other with eyebrows raised before Fred scurried over to the front door and pulled it open. The tall, imposing figure of their ex-Potions Master loomed out at them from the night.

"Ah, Professor!" Fred made a deep bow, removing his fez and waving it with a flourish before placing it back on his head. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Snape scowled at Fred before barging past him without a word, kicking aside a packet of 'You-No-Poo' on the floor before spinning back around and looking back at the twins, his arms folded tightly in front of him. Fred closed the door and glanced at George uncertainly.

"Can we help you, Professor Snape?" George asked, his tone one of unwavering politeness. "We're not strictly open, you know, but if you wanted -"

Snape growled, cutting off George mid-sentence. He glared at each of them in turn, his gaze getting ever more venomous. Fred and George Weasley were not often intimidated by Snape, which was just as well considering what they had gotten up to during Potions classes, but this came pretty close.

"Professor?" George tried one last time. "We're closing up now, so if there was something…"

Snape closed his eyes, clenching them tight as though he were in a bad dream. On opening them again he looked dismayed that the Weasley twins were still in front of him. The twins glanced at each other, determining silently who was going to try next, but just as Fred took a breath Snape finally replied, although not in a manner either of the people standing before him would have ever predicted.

_"I have been jinxed by your dunderhead brother,_

_Flitwick has tried first one spell, then another,_

_He bade me come to you for a cure,_

_So now your presence I must endure,_

_Fix this now, fix it for ever,_

_Or your heads from your bodies I'll sever_

_And if you breathe a word of tonight,_

_You'll find you prefer my bark to my bite!"_

Fred and George stared at each other in complete confusion before George hit himself on his head with his hand. "Oh, of course, Fred! We're idiots!"

Snape raised an eyebrow sardonically as Fred's eyes slowly widened in realisation.

"The Sing-it-all Spell? How did Ron get his hands on that? It's not ready yet!"

"No idea, we must have left it lying about somewhere," George shrugged. "If you're going to pick a target, though…" He turned back to Snape, a broad grin now spreading across his face, mirrored by his brother.

"Yes, little Ronniekins has certainly done us proud this time." Snape glowered at them.

"So, Professor, we're guessing you want the counter-jinx?" Snape continued to glare, not moving a muscle. "We'll take that as a yes. I think it's on one of the papers in the backroom, Fred?"

"Most certainly it is, my dear brother," replied Fred. "I'll just go and fetch it. I should warn you though, Professor, the counter-jinx mechanism is quite… complex." Fred strolled to the back of the shop, ducking through a curtain to the room beyond.

George stood in an awkward silence with Snape while they waited for Fred. Turning up his nose, Snape looked around at the luridly-coloured displays and sniffed. George followed suit, detecting the faint smell of acrid smoke from the earlier fireworks. Soon Fred popped back through the curtain clutching a scrap of parchment.

"Here it is." Fred placed the parchment across his flat palms and knelt on one leg. He bowed towards George, who theatrically accepted the parchment from Fred as Snape rolled his eyes.

"Right, Professor," said George, his eyes scanning down the piece of parchment. "As I'm sure you can tell, we haven't quite got the spell right yet. Because at the moment it's so… unique, I'm afraid there's quite a lengthy counter-jinx process."

"You do really need to do it all, Professor," said Fred in a deadly serious tone of voice. "Otherwise you'll have to start all over again." The twins both looked at Snape, who after a long pause nodded in agreement.

"Brilliant." Fred grinned. "So if you could start by just touching your right index finger to your nose."

Snape scowled before following Fred's instructions.

"And then lift up your left leg. Higher? Great. Now if you could just hop up and down on the spot for me. And now start spinning around as you do so."

Snape glared angrily at Fred before grabbing the piece of parchment from Fred. He missed the look of glee that Fred and George shot each other as he quickly looked down the list, his expression hard. He finally gave the piece of paper back in resignation.

"You'll have to start over, Professor, ready? Alright, so nose, leg, hop, spin. Wonderful. Now flap your other arm up and down like a bird for us." Both Fred and George had to fight to keep straight faces as Snape scowled furiously at them, before silently chortling as Snape's face spun out of their view again.

"Faster? Perfect, now just keep doing that. George, ready with the spell?"

"Got it right here."

"On three. One…two…three!"

"Verba loquere!"

A cool, blue blast of light hit Snape in his chest, causing him to lose his balance and fall backwards into a pile of empty cardboard boxes. Fred and George ran forwards to help him up, each holding out a hand for him to take, but Snape ignored them and dragged himself to his feet, adjusting his robes so they were straight once more.

"So sorry about that, Professor. Should have done the trick though. Try to say something."

Snape cleared his throat and opened his mouth hesitantly.

"I… it… it appears to have worked." Snape looked momentarily incredulous but then glared angrily at the twins. "You will pay for this, the pair of you. When you least expect it. And not a word. To. _Anyone_." He stormed out of the shop, slamming the door behind him so hard it swung open again.

Fred moved to shut the front door properly while George tidied up the boxes that Snape had fallen into. There was silence for a moment before George piped up.

"Fred?"

"Yeah?"

"You worried about Snape?"

"Nah, mate. You?"

"No way. We've got a whole joke shop. He can't win." They grinned at each other before locking up once more and putting out all the lights with a wave of their wands.

"George."

"Mmm?"

"Do you think he'll ever find out it was all total rubbish apart from the incantation?"

George snorted and then started to laugh uncontrollably. Fred joined in, clapping George on the back as the pair finally began to make their way up the stairs, congratulating themselves on another job well done.


End file.
